Lost Girl
by Eira Stradling
Summary: Dan and Phil are filming a documentary about American orphanages, children's homes, and the foster system. When they find an abusive one, their lives change completely. This is not a smut fic, this is not a love story. This is more about the OC rather than Phan.
1. Chapter 1: Her

**Chapter 1: Her**

Nervous, the tiny girl barely peeked outside the door. Silence was never good. Silence was bad. The hallway was empty, which was normal, but the silence seemed to somehow become menacing laughter. Squeezing her eyes shut, gripping the side of the door so tightly it hurt, the little girl tried not to cry. Crying is bad—she reminded herself again and again until her eyes dried. When she opened her eyes, she heard footsteps. Now she froze rather than shook, because she was back.

She was terrifying. Even her breathing made the child want to run and hide. That child had long ago learned that hiding made things worse. The footsteps grew closer, and the girl hurried to her corner. Hugging her knees to her chest, she waited. Voices could be heard from the hallway, and that was strange. She was the only one who could speak freely. The other voices were male, and that was stranger. No one came here. No one cared enough to come here, and everyone here deserved what they got. One boy asked if someone would come save them, and she'd heard. She had laughed, and said no one here was worth saving. Then she'd taken the boy to Time Out. Ever since that night, he'd never spoken again. Everyone was more careful about speaking after that. No one spoke without permission. Why was it so loud? The voices and footsteps were outside the door. The girl gulped, and watched her walk through the door.

She was smiling, and that was bad. She never smiled.

"Ms. Mavis, where do the children sleep?" questioned a man. His voice was strange. He had brown hair, part of it falling onto his forehead. She hated hair like that. When Amanda first came, she was punished for her bangs. Another man with black hair, the same style on the opposite side of his face, was holding something red and spoke next.

"Yes, we've not seen any beds in the rooms you've shown us," his voice was the same strange way of speaking as the first man.

"Beds?" she repeated. The girl was also confused. _What is a "bed"_?

"Yes, and the fact that none of the children we've seen have spoken or smiled is also worrying," the man with brown hair picked up the conversation. The girl wondered why she should smile. And didn't he know that speaking without permission was against the Rules?

"There's no need to worry, Mr. Howell," she said, "they are troubled children."

"That doesn't answer the question about their sleeping arrangements," the black-haired man stated with a frown.

"Mr. Lester, these children have everything they need," she said. "Don't you, Megan dear?"

Surprised, the girl said nothing.

"Did you hear me, Megan?" Her smile was still in place, but the girl knew that tone—ice was the warning. Quickly, the girl nodded.

"You have everything you need, don't you?" The smile vanished and the girl swallowed.

"Y-yes, ma'am." She hugged her knees tighter.

"Phil…" the brown-haired man _Mr. Howell_ said it quietly, but added nothing.

"Yeah," the other man _Mr. Lester_ replied after the briefest of pauses, lowering the red rectangle in his hand. It disappeared into a pocket of his purple jacket covered in pretty stars.

"Ms. Mavis, could we interview the children here? It would be great footage for the documentary," _Mr. Howell_ spoke to  her with an easy smile, quickly dismissing the prior exchange.

"Yes," _Mr. Lester_ jumped in, "we've done the same at other children's homes and orphanages, and it's added a layer of emotion to the film."

"Well…" she trailed off.

"We will, of course, compensate you for the time," added _Mr. Lester_.  She didn't see _Mr. Howell_ 's mouth twitch, but the girl did.

"In that case, I suppose it would be alright," she said slowly, "would I supervise?"

"That would take away the impact," _Mr. Howell_ shook his head.

"Could we just go around and ask them questions?" _Mr. Lester_ pipped up, cutting off  her response.

"That's a great idea, Phil! The kids would be in a natural place instead of the usual interview style you'd see," exclaimed _Mr. Howell_ with a grin.

"Perhaps you could tell the other children we'd like to speak to them so they won't be caught off guard," _Mr. Lester_ , the one with the small red rectangle, smiled. He'd taken the object out of his pocket again.

"That would be helpful, thanks Ms. Mavis," the other patted her shoulder, "we'll start with Megan, was it?" His face turned to the girl, still watching from the corner.

"Yes, that's Megan. I'm sure she'll be on her **best** behavior,"  she said, and turned to the door, "I'll just update the other darlings." With that, the girl was alone with two men she'd never met.

Frightened, she trembled when the door clicked shut.

"Hello, Megan," _Mr. Lester_ smiled warmly, "My name is Phil, and this is Dan. Will you please answer some questions for us?"

The girl blinked. No one had ever asked her for permission to do anything before. The brown-haired man, _Dan_ , smiled gently, almost like a silent encouragement. At last, she gave a tiny nod. Her grip on her knees loosened and while the wariness stayed bright in her eyes, the fear had made its exit.

"Okay, Megan," _Dan_ said, "Phil is going to record this on the camera—" _Phil_ gestured to the red rectangle with much enthusiasm— "and I'll be asking some easy questions. Would you mind if I came a bit closer?"

The girl hesitated, but gave a slow shake of her head. Dan blew out a quiet breath and took slow steps forward until he made cautious moves to sit cross-legged next in front of her. Phil moved just as carefully to get a good angle, and turned on the camera.

"Ready?" Dan asked Phil.

"Yep," Phil nodded with a huge grin, "are you, Megan?"

She blinked and nodded once, setting her chin on her knees.

"Alright, now the first thing to remember is that it's very important to be honest, alright?" Dan's face was serious, but he made sure to keep his tone gentle and calm. When she nodded in response for the umpteenth time in a row, he asked the first question:

"Where do you sleep, Megan?"

"I sleep here," she said quietly, in a voice soft and timid, "this is my corner."

"Do you have a blanket or pillow?" Dan could feel his stomach sinking even further. Ever since they walked through the front door, nothing had felt right. He and Phil had exchanged many an uneasy glance, and they'd only been here for fifteen minutes. Ms. Mavis gave them both the creeps. When he looked at the girl with big blue eyes in front of him, who was confused, his heart broke.

"Have you anything to keep you warm at night?" he pressed.

"No," she furrowed her brows and blinked.

"Alright," he nodded, "what's the food like here? Does Ms. Mavis cook for you?"

"We get soup," she suddenly smiled, "it's a food day today!" Her abrupt excitement made Dan smile, thought one thing nagged at him: "Food day?"

"Yep! We get chicken in the soup with our bread unless you're bad."

"What happens if you're bad?" Dan asked, even though he didn't want to know.

"You don't eat," she replied simply.

For a moment, neither Dan nor Phil moved. When Dan had his breath back, he asked, "is that the worst thing to happen?" When Megan shook her head, he wanted to find a bin to get sick in. The nausea only got worse as she spoke.

"It's worse when she hits. The food is only bad for the new ones. They haven't been put in Time Out," she hugged her knees tightly once more, "that is the scariest because we don't know how long it'll last."

"You're locked away somewhere for a long time?" Dan tried to remind himself that they were here to fix this. It didn't much help.

"Mmhmm. When she comes back, we don't know if it's to hit us or to let us out," she began shaking.

"That's it," Dan stood abruptly, and looked directly at Phil. With tears slipping down his cheeks, Phil turned the camera off.

"It's more than enough," he steadied himself, and said, "now, Dan."

Dan turned on his heel, whipped out his phone, and let out a stream of curses when he dialed 999 instead of 911. After correcting his error, the operator asked quick-fire questions and assured him that the police would arrive within ten minutes and she'd sent an ambulance just in case one of the kids was in need of treatment. When he'd thanked him, and hung up, Phil's eyes were dry. Both of them had yet to realize that Megan was crying silently.

A/N: I am here again...with another story...maybe I'll finish this one. No regular updates are going to be promised (I can't keep those promises anyway), but I do plan on adding to this. Don't know how long it's going to be or where it's going exactly, but we'll find out! Let me know what you think.


	2. Chapter 2: Them

**Chapter 2: Them**

When Dan and Phil turned around, they saw only that Megan had laid her face on her knees.

"Megan," Phil began, but he was silenced by the sudden jerk of her body, and he watched as her head raised from her hiding place. She shook terribly while tears leaked from her eyes.

"I-I'm s-s-sorry," she wept, "I'll be g-good, I pr-promise!" Her plea dissolved into more tears while the two men stood in shock.

"You've been very good," Phil told her, "you've done nothing wrong, love."

"Phil's right," Dan took a step forward, "we aren't angry with you. You're safe with us."

"Dan and I don't hit," Phil's voice was quiet, but effective.

"You…you don't?" the question was followed by a hiccup.

"No, we don't," Dan assured her with a smile. The girl sniffed and wipe her eyes.

"You aren't mad?" she checked.

"Not with you," Dan clarified, "we are angry with Ms. Mavis."

"Why?" she hugged her knees again.

"Ms. Mavis doesn't treat you the way she should," Phil simplified the situation.

"She…doesn't?" Phil was relieved to see her grip on her knees loosen.

"No," Dan said firmly, "she's broken adult rules."

Now the blond girl could do nothing but stare at the men in front of her. Her wide eyes flicked from one to the other. At last, she spoke up.

"What adult rules?"

"One is that adults are not allowed to hurt children. She's hurt every child here, hasn't she?"

Megan thought for a moment before nodding. "We all get hit," her soft voice was even fainter now.

"She is also meant to feed you three times a day," Phil told her. Again, the girl's surprise broke his heart.

"Not once?" she asked.

"Once in the morning, once in the afternoon, and once at night," Dan clarified, "no matter how you behave."

The two men let her take in the information. Dan checked his phone after a moment.

"The police should be here any minute," he announced.

"Good," Phil felt the tension in his shoulders drain away. It came back all at once when there was knocking on the door. It opened to reveal Ms. Mavis, whom Phil now despised. His friendly demeanor vanished when he spoke.

"Yes, Ms. Mavis?" Dan's head jerked towards Phil. It was incredibly rare to hear ice in his tone.

The woman raised her eyebrows. "I was wondering if you'd finished speaking to Megan," she said, a pleasant smile forming on her lips. Dan barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes.

"Yes," he said, "could we speak to you in the kitchen, please?" Phil nodded; it was best to keep her from the other kids.

"Has Megan not been helpful? I can assure you that I will discipline her for that," her eyes narrowed at her charge in the corner.

"Not at all," Phil said quickly, "she has been lovely. We just wanted to ask you some questions there," he pulled out his camera, "it'll be a nice setting, and then you'll be free to do what needs doing while we continue with the other children."

"Ah, yes," the blond waves bounced as she nodded, "right this way."

Before Dan left the room behind Ms. Mavis and Phil, he glanced back at Megan. "It'll be over soon," he promised. She nodded, and he closed the door behind him.

The kitchen was spotless. Dan noted the lack of preparations for lunch, but made no comment. While Phil debated over the setting of the "interview" with Ms. Mavis, he checked his phone and frowned. Surely the police should be here by now.

"Dan, I think we've got it," Phil's voice brought him back to the sparse kitchen. Ms. Mavis was sitting at the table with two glasses of water set at the places closest to the window. Dan analyzed the lighting and angle Phil was using. "Will the light be enough?"

Phil shrugged his shoulders, "There isn't anything I can do to make it better."

"The overhead lamp isn't doing much," sighed Ms. Mavis, "if I had more funding I could fix things around here." Dan let that comment go, but he saw Phil want to respond nastily. Discreetly, Dan shook his head as he sat. Phil couldn't help the "hm" that escaped, or the small eye roll. Ms. Mavis' brows raised, but Dan distracted her by "accidentally" knocking the water glass hard enough to almost spill it. He let out an obnoxious sigh of relief, and Phil laughed.

It was then the doorbell rang. Ms. Mavis jolted. Phil couldn't help asking, "Expecting someone?"

"No," Ms. Mavis rose, "I'll just get that." Dan and Phil waited five seconds before following.

" _Finally_ ," Dan muttered as she opened the door. Two gruff police officers stood there.

"Can I help you?" Ms. Mavis questioned.

"Ms. Mavis Darby?" asked the female with raised brows.

"Yes," she answered warily, "why? No one called you here, did they?"

"We received a 911 call fifteen minutes ago, reporting neglect and abuse," the male spoke calmly.

Ms. Mavis had the audacity to laugh, "That's ridiculous!"

"No, it's not," Dan countered.

"We have a video testimony," Phil held out the camera to the female officer. She took it and turned it on.

"It's the last video recorded," Phil said helpfully.

"What did that bitch say?" When Dan saw the anger in the woman's blue eyes, he gulped

"Ms. Mavis, please remain calm," the male officer made the request a warning. Ms. Mavis didn't heed it.

"I'll kill her! That traitorous bitch!" the voice exploded out of the woman, and the male officer had her cuffed within seconds of the outburst. Then Ms. Mavis started screaming vile words that made Phil feel slightly sick. The female officer merely huffed out a breath while her partner read Ms. Mavis her rights and guided and/or dragger her to the cruiser.

"Is there a place for us to discuss this?" she moved her gaze from Dan to Phil slowly, as if she was gathering an astounding amount of new information from only their expressions and appearances.

"We could use the kitchen," Dan shrugged, and Phil laughed from relief, nerves, and general emotional overload. After having to correct Phil on which direction the kitchen was, the three sat at the table. Officer Ray, as she introduced herself, watched with no expression as Megan answered questions in the video.

"This is enough to put Ms. Darby in a cell," Officer Ray looked at the British men, "the kids here will be transferred to other homes with required therapy."

"Good," sighed Phil, "we want them to be safe and happy."

Officer Ray's face completely softened with a smile, "they'll get there eventually. Now," she stood, "I'll need you two to stay in town, and the memory card from this."

"Absolutely," Dan agreed, "we're going to be in North Carolina for the next three months, and we can use the hotel here as a base. After that, our visa runs out."

"If there's anything you need," Phil fished out a pen and pad of paper from a drawer after searching through four, "here are our numbers."

"And we'd like updates on the case," added Dan, "I want to know what happens to them." Phil nodded his agreement and gave the torn piece of paper to the cop. She nodded and put it in a pocket on her belt.

"I can do that," she told them, "and one last thing—do you know where Ms. Darby kept her paperwork?"

"There's a front desk in the entrance hall," remembered Phil, "but she didn't show us any of the papers or filing side of things. We were more focused on the children than the administration."

"That's fair," Officer Ray acknowledged, "I would be too, if I was adopting."

"Oh, we're not adopting," Dan laughed awkwardly.

"We're filming a documentary on the American child care systems and child services," Phil explained with a light blush, "we aren't…together."

"Ah," her eyebrows raised and an amused smirk formed, "I see." Then she gestured for them to follow her back to the entrance.

The silence worried Phil. Children should be curious, they should be creeping from the woodwork by now.

"Where are the kids?" Officer Ray asked. The useless answer of "I don't know" was interrupted by the doorbell. Officer Ray opened it to the EMTs that had been sent.

"We were told some kids might need treatment from physical abuse and malnutrition. We have some snacks and water bottles, juice boxes, and—" the man frowned while setting down the giant cooler. The other EMTs set down their supplies as well.

"Why is it so quiet?" the first one asked.

"Often, abused children are scared into silence," a woman behind him explained quietly. She came forward and showed Officer Ray her ID badge and said, "Social Services."

After Officer Ray nodded her approval, the agent turned to the EMTs and said, "I think it's best to go from room to room, and lead with the food. It will go a long way towards trust." The three of them thanked her, and one piped up, "Does anyone know how many kids are here so we can be sure to get everyone the attention they need?"

The Social Services agent opened a file and said, "I have seventeen registered here."

"Got it," the last EMT nodded, "it's go time." With that, the three of them set off.

"Agent Fulcon, I assume you need the paperwork," Officer Ray broke the new silence.

"Yes, I do," she smiled.

"We think it's here, but we're not sure," Dan said, and when both women turned to look at him, he wished he'd kept his mouth shut. What was he supposed to say now that they were looking at him?

"Yeah," Phil said lamely, and Dan cringed. _We're too awkward for this shit_. Luckily, the two women only smiled at each other (which may not have been a good thing, but neither man could tell) and searched through the scarred desk together. Dan and Phil exchanged uncertain glances—were they supposed to help or stay out of it? Dan was about to ask when Agent Fulcon gave a cheer. Grinning widely, she dumped a large pile of papers on top of the desk.

"Excellent," said Officer Ray with a smile.

Finally, Dan found the courage to offer to help them.

"Yes, thanks," Agent Fulcon smiled warmly as they approached. "If we can sort this into papers about each child, that would help build their profiles for us."

"I need the originals as evidence, but we can make photocopies for y'all," Officer Ray began dividing the piles into four. Agent Fulcon looked like she was going to protest, but ultimately shrugged and took her pile with no complaints. Officer Ray's only reaction was a glance at the agent, followed by a self-satisfied smirk.

A half-hour later, the seventeen incomplete profiles had been laid out on the floor, Dan's neck ached, Phil's left leg had fallen asleep, and one EMT briefly stopped by to report there were no serious injuries and all children had been given food and water. Then she'd headed back to keep an eye on all of them. That's when Dan and Phil gave each other confused looks.

"What?" asked Agent Fulcon, who noticed. Officer Ray looked up from her pile.

"Where's Megan?" Phil forgot about his left leg as the sinking feeling came back to his stomach.

"The girl from the video…" the officer frowned and looked over the piles. Agent Fulcon scanned her list. The two women looked at each other, then at Dan and Phil.

"I don't have a Megan on my list," Agent Fulcon finally said.

"But there has to be," Dan shook his head, "we didn't interview a ghost."

"No, you didn't," agreed Officer Ray. Dan decided never to share how much that relieved him. Then Officer Ray closed her eyes and said, "Oh, God."

"What?" Agent Fulcon was just as lost as the two men across from her.

"Ms. Mavis Darby is blond and blue-eyed," Officer Ray said. Then she opened her eyes, and continued: "So is Megan."

"You think," Agent Fulcon stopped speaking when the cop rose and went through the desk drawers. The others sat in silence until she'd unearthed a small photograph. A tiny baby was in Ms. Mavis Darby's arms, and on the back of the picture in gentle cursive was:

Megan Eleanor Darby, née January 6th 2012


	3. Chapter 3: Time

**Chapter 3: Time**

Dan was pacing. Phil looked up at him from his laptop. He had expected this, but it was hard to resist pleading and using puppy eyes. For once, he would convince Dan—and he would show he was serious by not using those tactics.

"Phil," the sigh that went into the air after that told Phil he'd have to interrupt the next stream of words.

"We can," Phil turned his laptop around so Dan could read it.

"'Can' isn't really what I was worried about," Dan rubbed at his temples.

"Well, we _should_ , too," Phil declared. He'd already decided to be ridiculously stubborn about this.

"Phil," Dan looked him in the eye, "this could take _months_."

"It'd be worth it." The response was automatic, and he saw Dan hesitating. That was a good sign.

"It might not happen," the warning was more to protect Phil—if he got his hopes up, and it didn't go through, he'd be crushed.

"At least we'll have tried." This was strange. Dan narrowed his eyes. There were no ridiculous promises, no whining, no _Please, Dan?_ s, and no looking like a heartbroken puppy out in the rain. That's when Dan knew Phil was not budging, and no amount of Dan's logic would talk him out of this. It didn't help that Dan had entertained the idea himself for about ten seconds at a time before he used his logic to get the idea out of his brain. One of the reasons that had been most convincing was that Phil wouldn't do it. Now that argument was out the window, never to be seen again.

"You're not going to let this one go," he stated it, but Phil shook his head in response anyway.

"I have to do this," he turned the laptop back and opened another tab, "with or without you."

There was a moment of silence as Phil held his breath and Dan looked down at the carpet. Neither moved, and the silence was louder than anything either of them could have said.

"What's the first step?" Dan sat next to Phil, and looked over his shoulder as the other began explaining.

"You aren't married?" The pot-bellied man scratched at where his hairline used to be.

"No," Dan gritted his teeth.

"We aren't partners either," Phil decided to get that part over with before Dan exploded, "we're friends who live together."

"And you're doing this together," the man pushed the horn-rimmed glasses up on his nose.

"Yes." Dan was tired of this conversation, and having to explain over and over what they were doing and why it was simpler they do it together instead of one of them or separately. He messed with his fringe more while Phil sighed. Luckily, the most recent lawyer they'd come to see merely shrugged and opened the file they'd given him. He skimmed it, pursing his lips and "hm"ing every now and again. Dan itched to burst into shouting and pacing because it had been a month without any process to speak of.

"Mr. Lester, Mr. Howell," the lawyer began, "I think we can do it."

The relief on Phil's face changed swiftly into joy. Finally, there was some good news. He looked at Dan, who didn't seem to quite believe it.

"Really?" He needed confirmation, unlike Phil.

Their new lawyer chuckled and nodded.

"Let's do it then," Dan leaned forward with eyes gleaming and hands rubbing together. Phil was fidgeting through most of the subsequent conversation, and when they left Young Barnaby's Law Office, Dan jerked his thumb at the sign and laughed so hard he teared up.

"Can we go see her?" Phil bounced from foot to foot after Dan wiped at his face.

"Yes, you spork," Dan tried to roll his eyes and seem annoyed, but the huge grin ruined it. Then Phil took off towards a taxi and Dan had to chase after him. Yelling at Phil not only had no effect on the six-foot-two man-child, it took what little breath he had away and made people stare. Maybe his face would have been near purple anyway, but Dan chose to blame the embarrassment over the unexpected exercise. He only got his breath back halfway to their destination, which led him to shift his opinion a bit.

"Note to self: start jogging again."

"You okay?" Phil became rather concerned after hearing that.

"What? Oh, I'm fine," Dan assured him. Mentally, he chastised himself for talking to himself again. After banting for the rest of the ride, Phil's excitement was back and he tried to leave the car without undoing his seatbelt. This made Dan laugh and poke fun at him until the front door to the home opened.

"Hello," Agent Fulcon greeted them, "she's in the playroom."

Dan and Phil thanked her and made easy small talk on their way through the house.

"I love that idiot, but he could at least remember to close the fridge," she laughed, finishing her story about her husband.

"I know that life," Dan commented, stepping in the doorway to the playroom.

"It's just the cupboard doors!" protested Phil before a blond whirlwind crashed into Dan's legs.

"Hey, Megan," Dan chuckled, surprised that he was still upright. The big smile he got was brief because she'd then attached herself to Phil's shins.

"Hi," Phil beamed at her. She let go, but then tugged at his pant leg toward the sunlit room of toys. After checking that Dan was coming, too, she headed for the bin of blocks and the precarious stack beside it. Quietly, the three began adding to the eccentric tower.

Megan never spoke much, so Dan and Phil learned to decipher her actions. Something that had surprised them was how few people she felt comfortable around. She only spoke to those she was comfortable with, and the others were given careful looks and a great deal of physical distance. Unexpected movement still made her shy away, and touch was a no-no for anyone outside of Dan and Phil. Even then, she was not one to initiate touch beyond a "hello" hug. It bothered Agent Fulcon quite a bit, but Megan was warming to her slowly. Agent Fulcon was someone she'd only recently begun to speak to, and other children in the home were graced with her trust. That was one of the only things that comforted the social services agent—at least she wasn't completely terrified of her peers. It was only adults who'd scarred her. Outside the three of them, no adult managed to make her feel safe instead of frightened. Officer Ray didn't see her often enough, though Dan and Phil spoke with her regularly over coffee.

The judicial system was moving a little slowly for everyone's liking, but she and Officer Carson had made it so that Ms. Darby couldn't get anywhere near Megan. The two police officers had mentioned they'd been tasked with finding Megan's father, but they were getting nowhere slowly thanks to the lack of cooperation from a certain felon. Secretly, Phil hoped they'd never find him, or discover that he'd died in the past five years. Dan's opinion was that if the father had wanted to be around, he would have been there. Of course, they felt guilty for having those thoughts, but they couldn't seem to help it. After all, if he was found alive and well, everything would be ruined. Phil had tried to be realistic, to remind himself there were a million ways it could fall apart and they'd barely begun, but it all dissolved with the sight of big blue eyes and white-blond hair.

Suddenly, the tower fell, and Megan looked crestfallen.

"Whoops," Phil said.

"Oh, bother," Dan frowned. Then, he gently patted Megan's shoulder. "Let's try again, yeah?"

"Yeah," Phil smiled at her, "we can make it better this time."

Slowly, her disappointment bloomed into a soft smile. "Okay," she agreed.

This time, they sorted the blocks according to size and shape because Phil insisted it would help. Though the tower eventually fell, Dan grudgingly admitted that it was taller than the first one. Almost immediately, he regretted it, because Phil's glee and boasts were almost as bad as when he won a _Dan vs Phil_. Megan was smiling and laughing at their antics, and Dan no longer cared that Phil was being an arrogant twat, in his opinion.

It was times like these that made the cynical, niggling "this won't actually happen, what are you, _mad_ "s vanish. The one thing that made them go away was the something in front of him carefully selecting blocks for the base of the next tower.

The precious time they had with her that day wasn't enough. Megan clung to them, and neither wanted to leave her. Sometimes, they had to be reminded why they'd actually come here, that they were being paid to film a documentary instead of to play and spend time with Megan. If it was hard to leave her for less than twenty-four hours, their return to England would become the next Mission Impossible movie.

"You'll come back?" the child had looked up at them with vulnerable eyes while biting her lip.

"Of course we will," Phil had reassured her instantly.

"Tomorrow," Dan promised. Phil looked at him briefly before nodding his agreement. They'd make time, dammit.


	4. Chapter 4: Fatherhood

**Chapter 4: Fatherhood**

Officer Carson sometimes hated his job. This was one of those times. It wasn't that Hilton Head, South Carolina was a bad place to be, as the herons and water were almost as pretty as his finacée. Unfortunately, sweet Chelsea wasn't with him to admire it, and the reason he was here made his gut tighten. Far too used to setting aside his feelings to do his job, he rang the doorbell to the old house. At first, no one answered. Ringing three times before giving up was an unwritten rule in the force, so he did as he'd been taught. The little glimmer of hope he had died when the door swung open, squealing its protest as Officer Carson did internally. The man in the doorway had a ripped white t-shirt on—or, Carson assumed it was white under all the beer stains—and cargo pants that had seen better days.

"I ain't done nothin'," the stocky, tanned man wagged his finger at Carson for emphasis.

"Mr. Andrew Tohn?" Carson kept his face expressionless, something he'd picked up from Ray.

"Most people call me John," he frowned at the cop's uniform, "You ain't from 'round here."

"No, sir," Carson shook his head briefly, "I was sent here on account of your daughter."

The man burst out laughing, "I don't got a daughter."

"Do you know a Ms. Mavis Darby?" Carson asked, raising a brow.

"I know a lot of women," John grinned—and that made Carson a bit uncomfortable, "if one of 'em got pregnant, it ain't my problem."

"She thought so," acknowledged Carson, "but she's going to jail."

"Now I know I'm bein' punked," John stopped Carson from speaking with his hand raised and a very amused expression on his worn face, "where are the cameras?"

"Nowhere," Carson said tightly, "this little girl might be yours, and custody would be yours, too." He handed the not-so-overjoyed father a small photo of Megan.

The man gazed at it, all traces of laughter gone from his face. Now that Carson saw that expression, he knew this was the man of the hour. Megan had looked just like that when he and Ray told her they thought they'd found her daddy.

"This," John turned the picture toward Carson, "is my little girl?" He couldn't be a father. This wasn't happening.

"We'd like to do a paternity test to dot our I's and cross our t's, but we're fairly certain, Mr. Tohn."

"What do you need for it?" John stood tall. Maybe science would save him, and by extension, the girl in the photograph he held. In response, Carson set his evidence kit on the stoop and unzipped it.

Two minutes later, the bag was zipped and Carson handed John a business card. He told the new father he'd be in touch, and got a terse nod in return. They said their goodbyes and Carson slid into the unmarked sedan at the end of the drive. He started the engine and looked back at the old, dull house before driving the long distance back to Raleigh.

Sometimes, he hated his job.

Megan was waiting. They'd promised they'd come back. Sometimes they came late, after the sun went to sleep and she'd gotten her bath. If they did, they were in time to play and read a story before bedtime. It was comforting to have them read to her. They took turns, became different characters with funny voices and laughed quietly. After they finished the story, they would pull the covers over her and each would kiss her cheek. She loved when they came late, but she wanted them here soon. They never lied to her. They never hit. They told her they loved her every time they had to leave. They promised they'd come back. They never broke a promise.

More time passed, and the girl continued to look out the window following lunch. At last, she saw headlights pull into the driveway. She jumped from the window seat and ran to the kitchen.

"Megan?" Agent Fulcon was startled to see the little one burst into the room. Not ten seconds later, there was a knock on the door. The woman set aside her paperwork and coffee mug so she could answer it. While she did, Megan peeked at the file on top. She saw pictures of Dan and Phil attached to the papers with a lot of writing on it. Her head tilted as she tried to guess what all the long words meant. It would be fun to pretend they meant they could take her home with them to the England they told her about, where it rained a lot and people drank tea and sang about saving the Queen. Imagining that made her happy. Then she heard the voices, and abandoned the kitchen to go to the entrance hall.

It was obvious who it would be, so Agent Fulcon greeted them before the door was completely open.

"Hey, Melissa!" Phil said brightly. Dan echoed the hello and stepped in after Phil. Megan went right to them with arms outstretched and demanded, "Up!" Phil laughed and obliged her. This was new, so Phil soaked in the feeling of holding her close. After a moment, she leaned back and reached for Dan. Phil was not prepared, but managed to not drop her while Dan took their "angel", as Phil had dubbed her a few weeks back, into his arms. Like Phil, he milked it for all its worth before Megan tried to climb down.

"Easy, Megan," he cautioned as he set her down, "I am very tall and falling that distance would hurt like a…it would hurt quite a lot." He remembered she was barely five just in time. Oblivious, the girl giggled. She didn't see Phil nor Agent Fulcon glaring at Dan. He mouthed "sorry" to them, and Phil rolled his eyes. Before the woman could scold him properly, Megan was tugging at their pant legs.

"Play!" Her glee was contagious. As the two giants followed the blond fairy to the playroom, Melissa Fulcon couldn't help her smile. That little girl had them wrapped around her finger.

Her smile vanished when her phone rang, and as she listened, her heart broke for the two men upstairs. Sometimes, she hated her job.

Dan was shaking. He felt everything boil and churn inside him. There was one thing keeping him from roaring at Melissa, the two cops standing in front of him, at God, should there be one, and the world in general—that something had joined a game of pretend with the other children two minutes ago. So instead, he growled.

" _What_?" To Phil, it didn't sound human. Then again, nothing seemed real. It felt like a nightmare that he'd wake from any second. Everything was bright and painful. He wanted to cry, scream, and punch something all at once. Instead, he did nothing but stare as the three Americans tried to calm Dan. They were failing pitifully. Maybe if he wasn't frozen he'd have laughed at the scene, start filming. Maybe if his heart wasn't shattered and bleeding, he would have intervened.

Maybe if there had been a way to murder Mr. Andrew John Tohn, he would have done it.

"Explain." The sound that correlated to an English word sounded more like a snarl. Melissa carefully stepped forward.

"If the biological parent is found, they get custody." Melissa didn't move her gaze from Dan's eyes, no matter how much anger was directed towards her. They were always the first indication of someone's actions. His eyes were usually calm and warm, but anger made them darker and colder. They reminded her of a feral dog she'd faced once—unpredictable, volcanic, but more scared and hurt projecting anger instead. Anything could set him off.

"When," he damn near bared his teeth, "did you find him?"

"Two weeks ago," Carson got his attention. Dan took a step towards him. Phil found his voice.

"You didn't tell us," the betrayal was an undertone in the dull sound.

"The DNA test came back today. We weren't sure until this morning."

"Megan has to live with him," Phil shut his eyes against the pain.

"Not necessarily," the social worker tried to give them some hope. She couldn't bear to see Phil grieving, or Dan using rage to hide his broken heart.

"Don't patronize us," Dan snapped.

"Dan," the quiet syllable was enough to make him step back and take a breath.

"I'm sorry," the anger drained out of him and left the jagged shards of pain behind.

"If Megan's father turns down custody, she'd be yours." Melissa smiled weakly.

"But we have to tell him first, Ray told them, "We wanted to give you a head's up."

"Thank you," Dan said. Phil could only nod.

After Officers Ray and Carson headed to South Carolina, Dan and Phil comforted themselves by spending time with the children. Phil nearly broke down saying goodbye, and Dan did break down once they reached their hotel room. All they could do was order pizza, put on Fruits Baskets, and hope Mr. Tohn wouldn't bother trying. How could they leave their angel forever? If they did, would she remember them when she grew up? Would she find their YouTube channels and wonder why they hadn't taken her with them? Would she simply not know what she meant to them? If she didn't find them online, could they contact her at all? What if she did find them, but dismiss them? What if they never saw her again?

With these questions in mind, it was hardly surprising that neither man slept that night.

A/N: Hey everyone! Thank you for the favorites and follows-it really encouraged me to continue this story. And thank you to the guest who reviewed! I'm glad you enjoyed the first chapter, and I hope your enjoying the ones I've posted since. As I stated in the first chapter, there is no rhyme or reason to my upload schedule-I'm sorry, that's not how I work as a writer and I'd rather not make false promises online where the lies will be seen forever and ever (see my Harry Potter fanfics for evidence). I will say that feedback is what most encourages me to write, so please leave any thoughts you have in the reviews! Thank you to everyone for reading, and I hope I didn't make people cry (craft). I may have teared up writing this. Bye for now!


	5. Chapter 5: Shifts

**Chapter 5: Shifts**

Somehow, the beer wasn't helping. He'd been so sure it would. Five and a half beers in, he admitted defeat. Never had a cold beer let him down. Maybe he needed something stronger, or maybe he needed to wake up the woman upstairs. He scrubbed his hand over his face and poured a good half a beer down the sink. Then, the cabinet squeaked open and glass clinked gently. After he opened the bottle, he gulped down two fingers of the trusty Kentucky bourbon. Though the burn distracted him for a minute or two, the thoughts came circling back. He groaned and set the bottle down. Plan A, old reliable, had failed. Pushing away from the counter, he headed for the stairs. It was time to test Plan B.

Later, when he was sweaty and sated, when the woman had fallen asleep again, he could do nothing but stare at the ceiling. A long sigh escaped him and he turned to the side. Shutting his eyes, he begged for sleep. Sleep wouldn't come. So, he got up again, swallowed a handful of pills out of desperation. Afterwards, he pace through the narrow hallway, mentally screaming at the thoughts mocking him. They seemed to laugh at him while circling like vultures. He put his hands over his ears in a useless attempt to block them out. Back and forth he walked until they seemed to fade away, bit by bit. _Finally_ , he thought, and he was so relieved he simply slumped down against the wall. The drugs did their job. They did their job too well.

When he woke up, the nurse was writing something on her clipboard. His head was screaming, his mouth was full of cotton and empty at the same time, and nausea hit him like a sucker punch. The nurse heard him whimper like a pitiful puppy left out in the rain, and correctly deduced that he was awake and having the world's worst hangover. Her feet ached, it was six hours since she'd felt the urge to pee, and room 206's bedpans needed to be changed again. Only a small sigh escaped before she spoke in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Did you want to die?" He only groaned again. "Well, you gave your lady of the night a hell of a scare." This time he tried opening an eye. That was a mistake. The nurse merely continued her paperwork while he turned the air blue. Then the door opened like a sesame pod.

"Is Johnny alright?" the shrill voice made 'Johnny' want to cry.

"He'll live," the dry tone was thankfully much lower in volume than whatever-her-name-was.

"God, Johnny, what were you thinking? Why would you go and mix pills and booze like that?" The woman knew how to rant, he'd give her that. He needed to stop her before she got really into it and made his head fall off his shoulders.

"Sugar," he tried to talk around the cotton.

"Oh," she simpered suddenly, "could you get him some water, Nurse Annie-Lou?"

"We got some right here, Ms. Wythe," he heard a miracle being poured into a cup. He sat up slowly, ignoring how his head spun and stomach churned in utter protest. He could swear he was sweating by the end of the ordeal, and thought it pathetic, but he was too tired to dwell on it. Grateful, he chugged the water like he had the bourbon that night. The second glass went down slightly slower, and he carefully opened his eyes. Though the light still burned like holy water was meant to burn vampires, he could see the curvy brunette sitting on the bed with him, worry dancing in her deep, green eyes.

"Hey, now, sugar," he took her hand, "I'm okay."

"After a brutal stomach pumping, three hydration IVs, and twelve hours of unconsciousness following that, yeah," the dry voice was back, and he saw the nurse rolling her chocolate eyes.

"What?" he didn't quite believe what he'd just heard.

"You were sick, baby," the brunette squeezed his hand, "you drank too much and added sleeping pills. You didn't mean to, did you?" It took him a minute to understand.

"No!" he exclaimed, "no, I didn't want to…" His mouth shut, then opened helplessly, "This was not what I wanted, baby girl. Don't think that."

"It wasn't because North Carolina cops wanted to talk to you?" she squeezed his hand again when his eyes went wide, "They're in the waiting room. Did you…do something?"

"No," John protested, "I ain't done nothin'. They just want to talk, that's all."

"You're helping them?" the green eyes widened in surprise.

"You could say that," John nodded, "would you get them? It's important, doll." She nodded, and rose. Before she left, she kissed his cheek. He turned to the nurse after she'd gone.

"She saved my life, didn't she?"

The nurse nodded, "She sure did. Pay her back by using her name when she gets back. Since you probably forgot, it's Dahlia." Shame creeped up his neck, but he said nothing for a time.

"I'm a mess," he gave a self-depreciative laugh, "maybe she'll be the one to fix me." It was the first time he thought someone could.

"Mr. Tohn," Officer Ray greeted him with that and a nod. Her partner slipped in after.

"We're here about your test results," the male cop sat in the chair by the door, "we got the results two days ago. Seems you've had a hell of a time since we las talked."

"You could say that," he closed his eyes before stating, "It's positive."

"Yes, Mr. Tohn," Officer Ray glanced at the nurse.

"Push the yellow button if you need me," she said, striding towards 206's dirty bedpans.

When the door closed, Mr. Tohn looked each officer in the eye.

"I can't do it," he told them. Both silently agreed. Instead of voicing his opinion, Carson stood.

"There's a couple very interested in adopting her," he told the pale, exhausted man. There was a glimmer of hope in those light, golden eyes.

"They'll take care of my girl," he said with a nod, "she won't go from home to home in the system."

"There are some forms to sign, and then Megan can be with them."

"Will I be able to call them every now and again?" he asked suddenly, "Just to check in. I don't want to be completely separate from my daughter. I won't get involved in the parenting—God knows they're better for that than me—I just want to make sure my baby's okay."

"You could," Carson nodded. This man had somehow changed from the arrogant, redneck bastard he'd met before. Maybe Megan could change him for the better, just by existing. Ray took out a pen and walked to the side of the bed.

For once, Andrew John Tohn did exactly as he was told, when he was told.

Dan and Phil had just finished lunch in Greensboro after interviewing local foster parents. It had been a good day of filming, and they had a bit of a drive back to Raleigh. They had a dinner meeting with the editor, and after that they were going to see Megan. Both of them agreed to keep up their routine with her, as they didn't want to abandon her and hurt her by vanishing. Of course, neither could bear not being with her anyway, but Megan's needs came first. She needed positive consistency after being raised with negative consistency, and she needed to learn how to trust others—she needed them. Looking at her needs first was natural for them. It simply created no contest. If she needed them, they would be there. That was that. If she wanted something, it was difficult to deny her. They had on some occasions, and Dan always felt slightly guilty telling her "no". The instinct to give her everything had been discussed at length, and Phil eventually agreed that a child would be enough responsibility without getting a kitten. Dan was incredulous that the convincing argument was _that_ one rather than the reminder that Phil was allergic to cats, or that their landlord had specifically stated that no pets were allowed, or that vet bills were expensive and they had a college fund to worry about, or that neither of them knew how to care for a human properly much less an animal. Phil simply shrugged those arguments aside by stating that he was fine with one cat in the room, they had Google, and it wasn't known that Megan wanted to go to college anyway. It was in these moments that Dan wanted to smack Phil upside the head, but he managed to restrain himself in favor of more logic. Then came Phil's worry that Megan wouldn't like them anymore if they didn't do it, and wouldn't want them to adopt her. That had planted a seed of anxiety in Dan's head, but he'd held firm. They broke the news gently to the little girl, and after answering the question "why" more than they'd anticipated, Megan had nodded sadly and obviously needed to be hugged until she felt better. In the end, Megan had understood, and there was no pouting, tantrum, or tears—to Phil and Dan's great relief.

After buckling his seat belt, Dan felt his phone go off in his jacket pocket.

"Hello?" he answered without looking at the Caller ID as Phil tried to untangle his seat belt. Dan would have laughed and ragged on him a bit, but Officer Ray's words were impeding him from doing so.

"Really?" he gaped as Phil frowned and tilted his head to the side. His seat belt was only slightly less tangled in his lap.

"Oh, my God," Dan laughed, but no joke had been made, "tell Phil, quick."

Phil temporarily abandoned his twisted seat belt and took the phone. Soon the two of them were grinning idiots and they couldn't wait to get back to their angel.

A/N: Because this story is moving through me faster than diarrhea through someone with food poisoning, here's a new chapter. Hope you like it :) Authors are encouraged by reviews ;)


	6. Chapter 6: Hide and Seek

**Chapter 6: Hide and Seek:**

Megan tried not to fidget. She couldn't help it—waiting was hard.

"Megan, play hide and seek with us," called a gangly ten-year-old. Though she wanted to look out the window more, and it wasn't something she wanted to do, she considered it for a bit. Eager for a distraction, she leaped up.

"Max is it," the boy told her solemnly. She frowned. Max was the best seeker.

"No fair," she pouted. The boy's solemn expression turned into a sympathetic smile. He took her hand and pulled her along to the kitchen.

"Megan's playing," he announced.

"No fair," a dark boy whined.

"You're just mad because she's the only one you can't find in half a minute," an older girl told him.

He rolled his eyes, and rather than respond to her remark, began counting.

"Cheater! Close your eyes," accused Megan.

Max stuck his tongue out at her, but obliged. Then the children scattered. All of them were good at hiding, had needed to be experts at it for a time. Intense rounds of hide and seek could last up to forty-five minutes with four kids hiding. No round had lasted that long when Max was it. He seemed to have a talent for finding people, but he and Agent Fulcon knew it hadn't really been a matter of talent. It was more a matter of experience. His younger brother had been the best hider. It was Max who'd find him when the 'episode' was over. He always managed to find him. One day, he hadn't been quick enough. It was more accurate to say neither was quick enough.

Chris hadn't been quick enough to avoid the knife. Then Max couldn't find him in time to save him. Instead, Max had found him with unseeing eyes, and paled skin still warm to the touch.

Hide and seek was his least favorite game, something he and Megan shared. They played anyway because it was _their_ game. No one compared to them in this game. Max hated being _it_ , and Megan hated hiding. The other children had never been able to understand, but they had always supported each other. After all, if they didn't, no one there would have anyone. It was a given that no adult was completely trusted by any of them. It was by playing hide and seek that they showed this the most. Rather than call for Agent Fulcon when one of them was unfound, they sought Max. He had yet to give up on finding anyone, even Megan. Her record time of being sought by Max was ninety minutes. The real challenge Megan posed was that she was absolutely tiny, and more, she never chose the same place twice. No matter how Max decided to search, Megan evaded him until she was the last one. When the older kids started timing it, the fastest he'd managed to find her was twenty-two minutes and nine seconds. It was the base of both their rivalry and friendship. No one could explain why they connected the way the five and eight-year-old did, but no one got in the way of it. The older boys and girls encouraged it, joking that one day they'd marry, and have children with chocolate skin and bright blue eyes.

For now, Max would settle for breaking his record in finding her.

The game was decidedly less intense when Dan and Phil joined two rounds later. For one, Megan made it very easy to find her when Dan or Phil were declared it. Soon, all the children did the same out of pity. The tall, gangly men had no easy hiding places, and were not accustomed to children squeezing into cupboards or folding themselves to fit behind an armoire. As a matter of fact, aside from each other and Megan, they always found Max easily. Max claimed it was because he wasn't as flexible as the other children. Phil barely swallowed a laugh and consoled him while Dan resorted to holding his breath and going near purple. This truly concerned Megan, who came out of hiding from underneath a side table to see if Dan was alright. Luckily, or unluckily, the fit of laughter turned into one of coughing. Megan was more worried, but Max's dignity stayed intact. Dan was able to reassure her that he was fine after he regained control, and was treated to one of her hugs.

Finally, the children tired of hide and seek in favor of splitting into smaller games. Max joined a group playing Go Fish, and Megan went to her favorite, the blocks. She, Dan and Phil began building towers quietly. The two Brits were quieter than usual. Phil's jerky movements almost demolished their tower twice, and Dan overreacted to the point he'd scared Megan. Phil then intervened and managed to calm all three of them down.

"What's wrong?" Megan looked up at both of them briefly, then developed a sudden interest in the thin, light yellow carpet.

"Nothing's wrong," Phil's words rushed out of him so quickly and with such force that Megan jumped, and Phil repeated the two words in a gentle tone before adding, "you've done nothing bad."

"We just have some news," Dan finally acknowledged the elephant in the room.

"Bad news?" Megan's voice was small, barely audible, and an octave higher than it usually was.

"That's up to you," Phil maintained his gentle tone, and looked to Dan.

The brown-eyed man took a breath, and then revealed, "We've applied to adopt you."

"You want to be my daddies?" Her eyes were wide and her body stilled, hands slack and mouth agape. Phil smiled and nodded eagerly. Dan couldn't help but start giggling uncontrollably. Tower forgotten, the tiny girl threw herself at them. For a time, the three simply basked in the joy, holding on to each other and the warmth. The tower had fallen when Megan had abandoned all sense of poise and sprang at her new parents, but now they had each other. The had already built a family.

Word spread like wildfire through the home, and Max spent all the time he could with Megan. The two had become inseparable in the month before Megan was meant to board her very first plane. Everyone noticed it, and opinions were divided. Phil thought it was adorable, and insisted that they would be able to keep contact even across the ocean. This reassured Megan to no end, but Dan was not of the same mind. He didn't voice it, but he feared it would be very hurtful for Megan once she'd moved to England. Perhaps it would affect her as much as the culture shock, and starting school in September wouldn't be easy either. The worry about her homesickness and sorrow when she realized she couldn't play with Max anymore nearly consumed his mind, but an argument with Phil was not what was needed at this point. They were finishing up the documentary, of which they were incredibly proud, filing the unending paperwork so that Megan could stay an American citizen (Dan had insisted on this should she want to return later in life, and Phil had conceded reluctantly), and buying, shipping, and then begging friends to arrange the new furniture for Megan in their flat. So, Dan kept silent and careful watch over Megan's interactions with Max. Three days before Megan, Dan, and Phil were set to leave for England, Max was told that he was being moved to a foster family. This was neither good nor bad news—as far as he was concerned, it was just another name to write on the bottom of his left shoe in green marker. When the day came, Max had his suitcase by the door and Megan weeping into his sternum. The flight to England wasn't until after dinner, but Max was going to get in a car any minute. She didn't want to leave her friend, and Max didn't care for it either. The difference was that Max was accustomed to change and transiency. He knew better than most adults that nothing stayed the same, and people always left. His face was dry. Out the window he saw a grey car pull into the drive.

"It's time," he said quietly.

"NO!" Megan wailed, and clung to his shirt with a surprising grip. Her display of emotion made his throat tighten. Megan didn't cry. She never shed tears when she fell and scraped her knees, she kept her eyes dry when the movie turned sad, and he had never seen tears on her face since he'd known her. More than that, no one had wanted to stay with him until he met her. Here was the one person who'd shown him pure friendship. Now, he had to leave her. Grief and guilt began a war inside him, and he drew a sharp breath. His eyes snapped shut automatically. Then, the door opened, and Agent Fulcon welcomed a plump woman with light olive skin and sweet doe eyes. A touch of sympathy deepened the brown eyes, and she touched the sobbing girl's shoulder lightly.

"You must be Megan, sí?" the woman smiled as the blond bobbed her head and wiped her cheeks.

"Then I should tell you that Max is going to video chat with you every Wednesday. Your daddies have all of the information set up so that you won't have to end your friendship," her smile bloomed into a grin.

Megan hiccupped, "Promise?"

The new foster mother nodded solemnly, "I do."

Tears dried, a last good-bye was said, and Max looked out the rear window as Mamà Dolorès drove towards Winston-Salem, never moving his gaze from the tiny figure standing alone in the front doorway.

A/N: FYI, I'll probably post new chapters every Friday. I think I can actually be consistent with this story since it's an outlier (It's more than 4 chapters and I'm not giving up on it yet). Hope you enjoy this addition, and there will be Phan parenting fluff all over the next chapter. Thanks for reading, and feel free to suggest things to me in reviews! I love commentary, so if you want something to happen, tell me. :) Bye!


	7. Chapter 7: Home

**Chapter 7:** **Home**

Finally, finally, _finally_ —the word continued to repeat in his mind. His leg bounced, his fingers drummed, and it didn't matter that the journey was making him carsick. This trip usually made his stomach twist and turn in protest, but that same stomach was so light now that he was barely aware of the protests it made. Part of him was so relieved to be going home that the excitement was getting on his best friend's nerves. The only reason no annoyed remarks were made was that his best friend was just as wound up.

Turning his head, he could see another hand tapping out an internal rhythm. The gaze was unfocused and aimed out the window. A small giggle snapped his friend back to reality.

"It's happening," the whispered gush reached the other's ear—barely—and caused an involuntary grin.

"Really? I hadn't noticed." The irony was good-natured, and set off a bright burst of laughter from both of them.

"Becoming parents?" the cab driver's question only made them more overjoyed, which goes to show how optimistic they were at the moment. Socializing with strangers rarely made them smile at all.

"We're going to have a daughter," blue eyes danced with the announcement.

"She's five, and the sweetest little thing we've ever met." This time, the man spoke with no irony whatsoever—another rarity.

"What's she look like?" the driver's eyes didn't leave the road, though his attention was on the two men in the backseat.

"An angel," declared the blue-eyed one, sat behind him.

"Blond, blue-eyed, and tiny," specified the other. The driver chuckled.

"She sounds like an angel to me," he agreed, "and like my youngest was 'fore she grew up on me."

"What's her name?" the brown hair in the rear-view mirror tilted with the question.

"Laura," answered the driver in his gravelly voice, "and she's a pistol. She's a teacher all the way in California. Her students know better than to act out." The car filled with everyone's laughter. After many parenting tips were shared, and soaked in by the new fathers, the veteran parent turned into the small drive. On the first steps was a small, battered green suitcase. A girl who had previously sat next to it was now racing towards the car.

"Daddy!" she called, before the brown-haired man scooped her up. When the other father had rounded the trunk, she reached for him.

"Papa!" and she was handed over. Daddy bent to pick up the suitcase while Papa strapped their angel into the car seat they'd requested. Once the taxi was loaded with suitcases and the family, it was time for their new life to begin. Megan didn't look back at the house. She was too busy looking forward.

Dan was proud. Megan had gotten onto the big plane with no fuss and only a tiny bit of fear. Phil had soothed it away effortlessly, and was now just as caught up in the view from the window as their daughter. He grinned at that thought. It hadn't quite made sense to him—commitment was a scary beast he loved avoiding at any and all costs. It was the reason he was single and unprepared to mingle. When Phil said he was going to do this no matter what Dan said, everything had screeched to a halt. Phil had never looked so serious. It suddenly occurred to Dan that it had been one of the only instances where he remembered Phil was four years his senior. In that moment, the black-haired goof ad been a thirty-year-old man. Dan had gone stiff from the surprise. Phil needed this now. His friend had given up on romantic love for a variety of reasons, but Dan knew that was something that hurt. Badly. Megan needed love and light, and Phil had nothing but that to give. Phil needed Megan as much as she needed her Papa. Dan had simply jumped on board. That was nothing new. Phil had taken him in, and he'd joined up on YouTube, glad to be included for once. His teenage years had shown him that the people in the world could be incredibly cruel, and love, acceptance, and amity were not simply given away. He'd built the Phandom with Phil, he'd contributed—but if Phil hadn't given him that chance, Dan wouldn't be anything. This, the family created by two awkward Brits and an abused angel, was another example of Dan joining in something that didn't really need him. What mattered was his friend was happy, and Dan had made it easier legally. A couple, even a same-sex couple, had an easier time adopting than a single potential parent. He could give Phil what he needed, and that gave him worth. Knowing that lightened his heart, and he was able to lean back and rest with a smile on his face.

When he did, he had no way of knowing that Phil had a hell of a time keeping Megan from waking him.

"But Daddy should see the ocean, too," she'd pouted adorably, and Phil learned you could want to groan in frustration and laugh simultaneously.

"Daddy needs his rest," he reminded her with a grin. The laughing reaction was winning. Megan looked disappointed, but turned back to the window. She almost jumped out of her seat with surprise.

"Where did the ocean go, Papa?" her distress was comical as she gazed at the clouds.

"We went higher, love," he chuckled, "you're looking at clouds. Isn't that something?"

"Clouds," she said the word with awe. So, Phil was able to entertain her for a good four hours of the seven it took to reach London with the knowledge he had about clouds and the sky. His dream of being a weatherman had an incredible perk in this case. Then he'd taken advantage of the movies on the screen. Phil insisted on Moana, and Megan discovered her new favorite movie, At the end, because Megan insisted on listening to the songs during the credits, Dan woke up and stretched.

"How much longer?" he yawned through the entire question, but Phil was able to work out what he meant.

"Another hour," Phil watched Dan nod and close his eyes.

"No, Daddy wake!" protested Megan. She attempted to climb over to him, but was foiled by the seatbelt. At that moment, the flight attendant walked past with a trash bag. She joined in the laughter as Megan pouted. Phil undid the seatbelt and placed the little girl in Dan's lap.

"I'm supposed to say that's unsafe, but make sure she's buckled in for the landing. You have an adorable little girl." Dan thanked the flight attendant and cuddled Megan close. Though he knew she would grow up, he wished she would stay tiny, sweet and innocent forever.

"Why did you sleep so long?" Megan wanted to know, "Papa and me missed you."

"Papa and I," Dan corrected, and Megan tilted her head. "It's how you say it properly," Dan explained.

"Papa and _I_ ," the "I" was drawn out for several seconds, "missed you." Touched, Dan kissed the top of her head. Phil grinned while Dan promised to be awake for the rest of the flight.

When considering adopting Megan, Phil had worried that it was a selfish decision. After accepting he'd be alone in this life romantically, he'd wanted hope for another type of fulfillment. Dan brought him companionship and fulfillment from work, but something had been missing. It had turned into a gaping chasm that was tearing his heart right down the middle. Sharing that with Dan had made him feel better, but the canyon hadn't filled. There was something ironic about emptiness smothering something, but Phil hadn't been able to find the humor in it. Then they'd seen a little girl hugging her knees and watching them warily from the corner of a dusty room. Somehow, saving her from her mother and loving her closed the gap in his heart. He'd needed her in his life. Dan didn't, and Phil felt guilty for dragging him along until he saw that Dan had fallen as deeply as he. Then he felt that Megan could bring them both what they needed—for Phil, love; for Dan, warmth without the pressure of a romantic relationship.

Phil promised himself that Megan would get both those things in return. When it came down to those two needs, hers was greater than theirs.

His thoughts were interrupted by a cool, formal voice over the intercom:

"Ladies and gentlemen, please be sure to fasten your seatbelts. We are beginning our descent to London Heathrow International Airport. On behalf of the airline, welcome to England."

Silently, Phil added, "Welcome home."


End file.
